


Ask Me Why

by sherlakur



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Teen Titans - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Gen, spoiler: they make up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 15:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlakur/pseuds/sherlakur
Summary: After the defeat of Trigon, Dick realizes some things about himself and decides to pay Wayne Manor a visit.





	Ask Me Why

One thing that Dick had learned quickly after moving into the manor as a child was that Alfred's face, at times, could be even more difficult to read than Bruce's. Most of the time he was the picture-perfect Butler, reserved, self-composed and respectfully distant, and it took him years to figure out how to catch the things he wasn’t saying out loud but weaving artfully into his  Queen’s English.

But as he awkwardly stood in the wooden doors of the manor for the first time in over a year there was no mistaking what he saw in the other man's eyes: surprise.... and uncertainty. He had to admit that the latter made Dick more self-conscious than he would have expected. No, that wasn’t true. If he was being honest he hadn’t expected for his reunion with Alfred to go anything but smoothly and happily and hadn’t worried about it in the first place - especially since he had a different reunion to lose his sleep over.

“Hi Alfred,” he said, scratching the back of his head, already half-way to turning on his heel and driving right back to Detroit. But he knew there was no going back now.

“Master Richard… the fact that you're here, does that mean...” he intently eyed Dick's face, his black eye, the bruises, the cuts. “Is everything all right?”

Dick let out a breath of relief at that, because he recognized the look on Alfred’s face now – he was scared, scared that Dick's situation was so dire that he had no choice but to come to Bruce for help. And he couldn’t blame him, for months he had declined his invitations to come visit and told him he wanted to keep his distance, and with everything that had happened lately he went without contacting Alfred or replying to any of his messages for longer than he ever had before.  No wonder he thought something had happened when he suddenly stood at their door.

“I am, Alfred, I swear. I'm sorry we haven’t talked in weeks, it's been…” he paused, not knowing how he could even begin to put the last couple of weeks into words. “… A lot. I didn’t mean to worry you. I'm really sorry.”

“It's quite all right Master Richard. I’m just glad to hear you’re doing fine, albeit you do look a tad battered, if I may say so.”

Dick couldn’t help but smile. “You may, and you can even fix me up later if it makes you feel better.”

“It would be an honor.” He was smiling too now, a small smile  that always used to be reserved for him and Bruce only. At that point Dick was smiling so hard his face hurt and he was surprised when he realized he could feel himself tear up a little. _Wow, you haven’t even been here for two minutes and you're already losing it. Good job, Dick._

He finally stepped into the hall and  pulled Alfred into a tight hug. Even though he'd been taller than Alfred for a long time, it was still a strange sensation to hold him like this, when he'd been the one who had held him countless of times when he was a sad and lonely child. Alfred had always given the best hugs, and it was only later that he realized Alfred must have had his fair share of practice at comforting hugs long before he was even born.

As Alfred hugged him back just as tightly, Dick could feel a pang of guilt mingle with his happiness. He’d never intended to hurt Alfred when he left, and he'd talked to him on the phone fairly regularly since then. But he had only agreed to meet him a couple of times despite Alfred’s constant efforts to set something up, and since he'd moved to Detroit he hadn't seen him at all. It’s not that he hadn’t been aware that he was hurting Alfred - but he'd been so desperately trying to leave his old life behind that even interacting with Alfred felt like too much, and he hadn’t been strong enough to do the right thing. 

He held him for a long time, trying to convey everything he didn’t know how to say.

“I promise it will never be that long until I visit again,” he murmured, slowly releasing Alfred from the embrace.

“I should hope so. It would be a shame to let another box of your favorite cereal expire.”

He laughed, “I’ll get to that later, I promise.” _That is if Bruce doesn’t kick me out of the house the moment he sees me._

“So, uh…”

“Master Bruce is in his study, Sir.”

He gulped. “Okay, thanks. I'll... go and see him then. Talk to you later,” he said, forcing a weak smile even though he knew the man would see right through him. After looking at the marble floor for a moment longer he finally got his feet to move and turned around, but stopped when Alfred spoke up again.

“He was very upset when you left.”

Dick didn’t turn around. He just stood there looking at the floor again.

“Though not in the way you might think.” His voice was quiet and soft, and he suddenly sounded very tired. “He wasn't angry with you. He understood the reasons you had to leave, and he was angry with himself that he hadn’t been able to prevent it. He never wanted you to become like him. He wanted you to become a happier and better person than that, and when you left he saw it as proof that he had failed you. As a mentor, but as a father as well. He never tried to contact you because he wanted to respect your decision and knew you needed time, not because he didn’t care. I think it's fair to say that I know him better than anyone so believe me when I say, he's been struggling with your falling out every single day since you left.” He paused. “I suppose what I'm trying to say is… don’t be too hard on him.”

Dick still wasn’t turning around. Only a few weeks ago he wouldn’t have been susceptible to those words at all. A few weeks ago he was beating up criminals saying “Fuck you, Batman.” He wouldn’t have wanted to hear about how sorry Bruce was, wouldn’t have believed it either. But now he could see it clear as day: how Bruce would beat himself up over every little mistake he thought he'd made with Dick, how he would work a little harder and push himself a little further every night, because he didn’t he know how to deal with his guilt and thought he owed the world for not being perfect. He was surprised at how much the idea made his heart ache.

The fact that Bruce wasn’t angry at him didn’t make him less nervous about the conversation he was about to have either.

“Thank you. I won't,” was all he said to Alfred, because he didn’t know what else there was to say to that. Then he walked to the end of the hall, into a different hall, through a big unused room until he stood in front of Bruce's study. _Here we go._

He knocked on the door, heard a strong “Yes”, and didn’t let himself think about what it did to his insides to hear that voice.

Dick was definitely glad that Bruce hadn’t been in the cave when he came here because the sight that greeted him when he stepped into the room was already making him feel better about all this. In his mind (and his dreams) this conversation had always happened when Bruce was sitting in front of the Batcomputer, his face illuminated by the white light of the screens, the bat symbol on his chest staring up at him with invisible eyes. Bruce was the only person he knew who could sit while talking to someone who was standing and turn that into some sort of power move.

The picture in front of him, in stark contrast, was almost absurdly serene. The sun was setting behind the desk, flooding the room with golden light. Bright enough that Bruce hadn’t turned the light on, yet but dim enough to give the room a cozy atmosphere. Bruce was dressed casually (for his standards, meaning a ridiculously expensive cashmere sweater), and next to his paperwork there was an empty cup of coffee sitting on the desk.

He didn’t look up as scribbled something in a Wayne Enterprises file. “What is it, Alfred?”

There was a mild panic at the edge of his mind that Dick did his best to ignore. There _really_ was no going back now even if he wanted to. He cleared his throat, because somehow it had managed to go completely dry in the two seconds since he entered the room.

“Hey.” _Off to a great start, Dick. Real eloquent._

Bruce's head snapped up faster than he’d thought humanly possible. Then, for a while, he only stared. Not in the calculating, distant way that he usually stared at people. He stared at him like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, and there was something unmistakably guarded, careful in his look.

“Having an office day I see. You always hated those,” he offered weakly when it didn’t seem like Bruce was going to speak anytime soon.

Bruce finally found his voice after that. “Dick? What…” He seemed at a loss for words. “Why are you here?”

This conversation was already exhausting before it even started, so he decided to do himself a favor and pulled out the chair opposite to Bruce for himself to sit down onto. “What, I can’t even come home anymore without you and Alfred looking at me like I grew a pair of horns?” he asked but the joke fell predictably flat.

Bruce looked down at that, and when he spoke again his voice was very quiet. “You didn’t make it seem like it was your home anymore.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who should be apologizing. You were right in leaving, you were right about everything you said to me. And… I'll never forgive myself.” His voice was calm and steady, the words clearly rehearsed. But that wasn’t nearly enough to conceal the pain and self-hatred lying underneath. Not from Dick.

But he had prepared a speech too. Kind of.

“Bruce stop, no. I wasn’t fucking right, okay? Well, maybe about some things. But definitely not about all of them. I blamed you for things that weren’t your fault, I blamed you for my own issues, and I criticized you for your methods and a lack of control when you were more in control than I ever was. I see that now. I didn’t see it then.”

He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. “At first I admired Batman and I admired _you,_ for everything that you did. But when I grew older and that hero worship started to fall away… I saw you as a person for the first time, and  decided that I didn’t want to _be_ that kind of person.”

Bruce looked down again and nodded quietly, as if to acknowledge that no one should ever aspire to be like him.

“I didn’t want to be so _angry_ at the world all the time, haunted by my past, so full of pain that I would do anything to enforce my idea of justice. And when I felt myself… when I felt that _darkness_ coming over me more and more often, I thought you had to be the reason.”

“Wasn’t I?”

“No.” He picked up a paperweight sitting on Bruce desk, and held the cool and smooth object in his hands. It felt heavy in his palm and he prayed it would anchor him while he said the things he needed to say.

“The truth is, Bruce, in so many ways you and I are the same. It’s always been inside of me, from that day on. And that’s _not_ your fault. You saw it yourself, after you adopted me. I was so angry, so desperate, looking for vengeance, looking for _anything_ that would make the pain go away. And then you tried to help me. You tried to teach me how to channel those feelings and get them under control, instead of letting them control me. Maybe I just wasn’t ready for that, I don’t know. But I do know that you tried your best.”

He looked up from the paperweight he'd been mindlessly staring at and look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

Bruce was silent for a few moments before he spoke. “You are not like me.”

“I am, and part of me will probably always be. There’s no changing that. The only difference between you and me is that you've learned to deal with that part of yourself.”

Bruce laugh was short and harsh. “You think?”

“Yeah, well. Except for the whole bat stuff I suppose.”

He laughed again, but then he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Well, I still think you’re going way too easy on me right now. Believe me, I thought about all of  this a lot since you’ve been gone, and I'm more than aware of how lousy a father I was to you at times." It wasn't hard to see through his mask of indifference anymore, his voice weak and his facial expression somewhere between agonized and bitter. Then he sighed again, letting out a quiet and steady breath of air. "But I'm glad I'm getting a second chance to be better.”

He wondered at that moment exactly how many nights Bruce had lain awake wishing for nothing more than for Dick to come back and give him that second chance at being a father. He suspected that he didn't want to know the answer.

“Me too, you know. You and Alfred are my family, I'll never let myself forget that again.”

Bruce was clearly trying not to let it show how touched he was by Dick's words - but once again failed spectacularly. He turned his face away, then cleared his throat and asked, “Why now? What changed?”

 _Talk about complicated questions._ “Something happened that... I guess you could say it had me confront the darkness inside myself.”

Bruce crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, putting on what Dick used to call his “Detective Mode”.

“Trigon.”

Dick gaped at him.

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but. How the hell do you know about that?”

Bruce only raised an eyebrow.

It was highly unlikely that he found out from Kory or Rachel. Donna was a possibility; but she was very well aware that anything she told Diana would likely reach Bruce too, so he didn’t think she would talk to her about Dick knowing that he had wanted to distance himself. Besides, as far as he knew she was more than happy to keep Diana out of her business too nowadays. Gar, however, had probably talked about his adventures with just about everyone he knew…

“Dr. Caulder.” He snorted. “Jeez. Of course you know those people.”

“The DPD has quite the detective I see.”

“Apparently I learned from the World’s Greatest.”

Bruce smiled at him, genuinely and openly, and Dick felt overwhelmed with emotion because _god_ , he hadn’t even realized how much he'd missed this. How much he’d missed Bruce.

He would have told him as much, and this was also the moment when a father and son who had just started to reconnect would normally seal the deal with a hug. But Dick had accepted a long time ago that Bruce just wasn't that kind of person. 

So he put the paperweight on the desk and rose from his chair. “Well, before we both start shedding some very manly tears I'll go and see how dinner is coming along. Also sneak up to Jason and scare him in order to demonstrate my superiority. See you around, old man.”

He started walking towards the door when Bruce stood up and said, “Dick, wait.”

He stepped up to him and pulled him into a hug. It was crushing him, cutting off all his air, the angle was awkward and before Dick was able to process what had happened it was already over.

It was perfect.

“It’s good to have you home.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed Titans very much but if my trash son doesn't appear next season with an actual face and a voice and makes up with his son I'll be so mad at those cowards.
> 
> (I know that it looks like Jason will actually join the fight next season, in which case Bruce would have heard about Trigon from him of course. But for the sake of this fic I chose to pretend he never found out about the whole thing.)


End file.
